


Just Hold Us Close

by rixie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternatively Universe - Dominant/Neutral/Submissive, Alternatively Universe - Twins, Angst, Bad!Voldemort, Caretaker!Regulus, Caretaker!Tom, Classification trope, Good!Tom, Horcruxes, Infantilism, M/M, No Dumbledore Bashing, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Politics, little!Harry, little!Neville, witchcraft and wizardry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:45:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixie/pseuds/rixie
Summary: Okay, Okay. I've fixed the tags now, and have finally written a proper fic summary. Behold;Harry and Henry Potter had never been much like the other children. With strange habits and even stranger abilities, they seemed to repel all who came near. Both have spent their lives trying to force down what they are, but  with the arrival of their Hogwarts letter, they might yet find someone to teach them the meaning ofcare.Tom Marvolo Riddle, now Professor Slytherin, wasn't always half a man - with a constant dull ache in his chest where the rest of his soul should have been.Don't worry - its still out there. Probably murdering innocents and plotting the takeover of the British Magical community. Again.Bloody Horcruxes.(AN: READ THE TAGS PEOPLE this story is based around infantilism - just be aware of this)





	1. Prequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just posting this here to free up room on my phone. I might update in a few decades.
> 
> Basic plot: I don't even know? Basically Tom Riddle and Voldy were the same person but now they are not. Also Harry has a twin called Henry and there is loads of the classifying infantilism trope thing, but otherwise this will follow the books.
> 
> Also this story is a lot more angsty than the tags make it seem.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...."_

* * *

A single man stands outside the corner shop with crumbling bricks and rotting wooden foundations, a small piece of parchment gasped in one hand. 

There is deep black ink on the parchment; a few rough squiggles and loopy numbers that are beginning smudge in the rain.

The man stares at the store front in what an observer might think is confusion, or even mild horror, but it's hard to tell with the thick brown coat obscuring most of his face.

He doesn't want to go inside. In fact, he wants to go back to his quiet home far away from this shady side of London's underbelly.  
But the store does look promising; dubious enough to offer what he needs, but not quite dubious enough to house occupants that might try to sell his organs.

He doesn't want to go inside, but for the sake of retaining his homes quiet and _ordinary_ state he is desperate enough to give anything a chance. 

The man feels a light tingle dance across his skin as he pushes open the black wooden door.  
It is a wholly unpleasant feeling that, for his own sanity, he chalks up to being excess static electricity from a brewing storm rather than a bad omen. 

He doesn't believe in that sort of thing after all. 

The inside of the store is even more unsavoury than the outside had suggested; dirty and dusty floor, with crooked wooden shelving forming isles that are barely wide enough for the man to manoeuvre his considerable bulk through.

He tries not to stare at the shelves for to long, as the longer he does, the harder it becomes to convince himself that they are not staring back.

The store is far larger than the outside would have suggested, but the man can just spy a small counter up the back left corner of the store. He notes that it seems to be just as crooked as everything else in here, but with considerably deep scratches upon its wooden surface; as if made made by a vicious wild animal.

"Ah, I thought I felt someone enter." An older man seemingly appears out from between the shelving. He stares at the shops newest visitor in confusion. "You... are not what I was expecting. We don't often get people like you in here.

_People like me?_ The man looks over at the shop keepers ragged shirt and moth-eaten pants covered by a threadbare cloak, and then down at his own dirt-free coat, and shining shoes. It seems only logical to assume that this shops usual customers don't have the most respectable standards.

"I can't imagine why." The man sniffs.

The shop keeper narrows his eyes at the comment, "Ah, muggles, all just the same. Though, _you_ must be very desperate indeed; if you managed to make it passed my wards. " He shuffles a few items on the nearest shelving; multiple bottles with silver shimmering liquid inside and a skull that looks disturbingly humanoid.

Muggle. _Muggle._ Now that certainly is a word the man recognises. At least he knows now he is in the right place to potentially get what he needs. Through perhaps he can first take this conversation away from the creepy skull.

"What's your name then, muggle?" The shop keeper asks before the man can comment. 

"Vernon." Is the mans crisp reply, as he flips the collar of his coat back down from where is was turned up against the brutal wind outside and remove a piece of parchment from his inner coat pocket. He holds it out to the shop keeper. "I need you to make me two of these."

The shop keeper warily stares at Vernon before taking the parchment and unfolding it. He sucks in a startled breath at what he sees written in the black ink. 

"Difficult, difficult," the shop keeper tuts. "And highly illegal as well."

Vernon resists the urge to grind his teeth. He knows it's illegal; it's the reason he has had such trouble finding a magic user that will make it. He doesn't care about the laws of these freaks.  
"But can you do it?" Vernon snaps.

The shop keeper hums thoughtfully, scratching at his chin, "I could, yes. If I want to though, is another matter entirely." He looks at Vernon expectedly. 

Vernon reaches into his coat again, this time removing a heavy sack. The gold inside jingles and chinks noisily as he thrusts the bag toward the shop keeper. "Money isn't an issue."

The older man huffs, "it wasn't money I was worried about, but rather moral." But just as quickly he snatches up the sack and smuggles it away somewhere in his raggedy clothing. "Luckily even morals have a price these days." 

Vernon doesn't smile, but the sheer relief he feels after months of searching for a magic user who will make what he needs is almost enough to bring him to his knees.  
If the older man notices then he must choose to ignore it, because he quickly spins away from Vernon and easily manoeuvres his way through the crooked shelving to the counter in the shops back corner. Vernon follows him numbly, listening as the shop keeper chatters about logistics and timeframes. Most of it goes over Vernon's head, though he is aware that he'll need to be back within the next week with a _hair_ of all things, one from each of his charges. Then his items will be ready for use. 

Vernon leaves the shop with much lighter pockets and a churning feeling in his stomach. It's a mix of unease, relief, and strangely enough, _guilt._  
He just wants to return to his quite and _ordinary_ home that's now most assuredly going to stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this note that means for some reason you clicked on my story, all I can ask is: WHY. Also thank you though??
> 
>  
> 
> (This chapter will probably have a bit more detail added to it later BtW) 
> 
>  
> 
> Plz don't drag me, I may seem like the type but I'm fragile inside T.T  
> 


	2. Of Ruins And Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look I'm updating already, it's your lucky day champ

By the time Harry and Henry Potter were five years old, it was evidently clear to Petunia Dersley that there was something greatly amiss.

Peculiarly, it wasn't even the 'accidents' that tended to happen around the boys which was the object Mrs Dersley's concern -although these 'accidents' did have a place in their own category of concerning.

The strange 'accidents' that Harry and Henry often found themselves at the centre could be brushed off as coincidences; quick pseudo-science explanations of a strong wind here, or a magnetic anomaly there, and most people wouldn't think twice about the unusual occurrences.  
No one in respectable society would ever expect that the Dursley's were anything but a kind and proper family of Gens.  
To the fellow residents of Privet Drive, the Dursley's were nothing more than decent, normal neighbours who altruistically took in their twin baby nephews after a tragic car accident left them orphaned, even though they already had a child of their own. No funny business at all, or so the story implies

But this, this was something that could not be hidden or swept under their carpet of good repute.

The issue at hand, the one that caused Harry and Henry Potter to be locked away in the Dursley's house like a dirty secret, had prompted Mrs Dursley to invite something into her house that she had long since vowed to never touch.  
She was desperate, left feeling like she had no other choice; the boys could not stay hidden forever. There would eventually be a time when the twins would have to venture out into public. And when that time came, Petunia would make sure no one suspected just how twisted and wrong her charges were. 

The supposed 'wrongness' that effected Harry and Henry -although hardly being a common condition- was actually not wrong in the slightest. To the magical community it was considered a gift, a rarity to be cherished.  
Tangential to this, the condition that 'tainted' the Potter twins still garnered considerable bias among muggles, and to the Dursley's -a positively idealistic family of neutrals- it was the worst possible outcome of an already bad situation.

Even both boys presenting as submissives would have been preferable.

Now, Petunia wouldn't necessarily label herself as a bigot (although her husband has no problem embracing this term for himself. His directness is just one of the many things she loves about him). Petunia could be very accepting of people who fall into to the other classifications when the time calls for it.

She can also be very unaccepting when something threatens to make her family the laughing stock of Privet Drive.

Some might call it selfish and conceded, but when she looks over at Harry and Henry potter playing silently -like they have been taught- on the stairwell one evening, she knows something must be done.  
That very night, Petunia turns to her beloved husband, Vernon, and tells him of her worries about the boys. He is unsympathetic at first, seemingly content to just keep the boys locked away forever, but Mrs Dursley reminds him that there are only a few months left until the Potters legally _had_ to be enrolled in school (having been kept out of kindergarten due to 'health issues').

Vernon was far more agreeable after that, and it doesn't take much for them to work out a plan.

* * *

By the time that Harry and Henry Potter are five years old, the boys know that something about themselves isn't quite normal.

For starters, they are almost half the size of the other children their age, and almost one third of the size of their cousin Dudley. 

If fact, they weren't very similar Dudley at all; while he liked roughhousing and wrestling, the twins preferred quiet games and regular naps; where Dudley loved his morning cartoons, Harry and Henry hated the loud and violent noises that features regularly in them.  
And, while all the Dursley's loved to glutton themselves with rich meals, blander foods were by far preferable to the Potter boys.

There were also the strange incidents that seemed to occur around Harry and Henry. Incidence that -despite their Aunt and Uncles best efforts- the boys would not trivialise and feint ignorance.

See, Harry and Henry were... Special. They could do things that other children could not.  
Well, the twins assume that other children couldn't do these things. They'd never actually met any -except cousin Dudley of course. Neither of them are allowed out of the house much; only occasionally in the backyard to do some gardening chores. 

They'd asked their Aunt why they weren't allowed outside to play one time, having just spent the afternoon tirelessly polishing the good cutlery set that they would never be allowed to use- all the while listening to the sounds of Dudley 'playing' through the kitchens open window.  
She said that it was unsafe for freaks like Harry and Henry to be allowed in public. They might hurt someone, or someone might hurt them.

She seemed to imply it was more likely the former, and the twins might have called her out on her lie had Henry not accidentally 'spontaneously combusted’ Petunia’s favorite rose bush a few hours later. 

At just five years old, Harry and Henry learn that someone with 'position of guardianship' doesn't guarantee to be caring or even kind. And that if everyone in the world could even be even half as awful as their Aunt and Uncle, then perhaps its best they don’t go outside after all.  
The twins have a lonely early-childhood, filled with bruises and 'accidents' and tears, but at least they have each other. And -to the immense relief of their Aunt and Uncle- they have slow but steady growth spurts until both are only slightly smaller than the other children their age (but still half the size of Dudley).

Neither of them thinks much of the small, pebble like amulet with glowing carvings which hangs around each their necks. It was a 'gift' from Vernon, who told them never to take off unless they want to 'face severe consequences.' 

Harry and Henry have both had enough of a taste of Vernon’s consequences to know that they never want the ‘severe’ version.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone already liked this? Thanks for the vote of confidence- it makes me feel things
> 
> "Trust me, I am a professional." -Lockhart, probably.


	3. The Letter

_"Get up, freaks!" _A muffled shout echoes through the thin walls of the broom closet, dust that's accumulated along the rotting, wooden rafters begins to filter down as Dudley deliberately stomps up and down the stairs above.__

____

"Get up, freaks." Henry parrots, putting on an absurdly high-pitched voice. "Or I'll eat all the bacon again, like the pig I am." He flails dramatically, almost falling off the tiny mattress that acts as the twins bed.

Harry giggles, his face burrowing deeper into his twins side to avoid getting smacked with one of Henry's bony elbows. Neither of them have any concept of personal space, having rarely been more than five feet away from each other their whole lives.  
Even in school, the twins would kick up a _right fuss_ if anyone tried to separate them more than the distance of one classroom - the codependence greatly concerned their teachers, till said teachers got incessantly distracted by other 'accidental' things.

Dudley stomps once or twice again causing more dust plumes to rain down, before scampering off loudly. Nothing that boy even does is quite; a brutal result of upraising and dedication to making the twins uncomfortable.

Harry peeks his head out of the thread-bare blankets, noting that the thumping noises above them have stopped, "I think it's time to get up, Henry."  
He pokes his twin twice in the cheek. 

"No-o." Henry whines, flapping Harry's hand away and throwing one forearm over his eyes. "Five more minutes." 

_"Get up, boy! Now!"_ The holler comes through the little vent in their bedroom (nee broom-cupboard) door, followed by the sounds of the door roughly being unlocked. 

The twin cringe simultaneously, and Henry pouts. Their uncle sounds like he is in a horrible mood - probably because Dudley has been intolerable the last few days, and when Dudley is mad then everyone is mad, and the twins take the brunt of it.

 _Best do what he says and hope it doesn't get any worse_ Harry thinks while scrambling his way out of the blankets, his head narrowly missing one of the rafters. It's a tight fit in here for just one person; but two makes it almost claustrophobic. Luckily they are both still fairly small for their age or morning routine might have been quite a struggle.

Henry sighs, but follows his twins lead. Both are dressed and hastily making their way out of their 'bedroom' within minutes. Vernon and Petunia are already sitting at the kitchen table when they enter the room, yet neither look up from the paper to greet the twins good morning. Dudley can be heard whining in the lounge about his literal _abundance_ of new birthday toys.

All these presents and yet Dudley _still_ isn't happy. See, Dudley was supposed to visit the zoo yesterday - his last and most important birthday gift. But sadly there were a few _incidents_ regarding transportation, so the trip was postponed until next weekend - as by that time, Vernon can hopefully have the car fixed. 

(Henry maintains that it wasn't his fault the tyres blew out. Even if he was washing the cars bonnet at the time of the incident). 

"Boy!" Petunia snaps, garnering the twins attention and indicating pointedly at the stove. Neither need to be told twice, and Harry is quickly putting a frypan on the hotplate while Henry grabs some bacon from the fridge and eggs from the pantry. After years of making food for their relatives the twins have become fairy exceptional at working in tandem; Harry cooks, Henry cracks the eggs and butters the toast, both wash the dishes after. 

Henry is just plating up the Dursley's breakfast when Dudley comes thumping into the room. He deliberately pushes Henry over on the way to his chair- not a hard feat considering how much more body mass he has- and it's only Henry's quick reflexes that stop the plate from ending up on the linoleum. 

"Dudley!" Vernon growls, not out of concern for Henry's wellbeing but rather the foods. Dudley just rolls his eyes, slumping into his seat and snatching the plate from Henry.  
Henry is quick to set the rest of breakfast on the table, knowing better than to get between an irritable Vernon and his meal. The morning paper is easily tossed aside as the sounds of scraping cutlery and slurping fills the kitchen.

 

Harry is just finishing up with the second round of bacon and eggs when the click of the letter-box, followed by the flop of letters on the doormat sounds and Vernon grunts, "Get the mail, Dudley." 

Dudley scowls. "Make the freaks get it."

"Get the mail, boy." Vernon modifies easily, not even looking up from his plate. 

Not wanting uncle Vernon's wrath focused on them if they don't obey, the twins hurry to plate up and switch off the stove.  
They'll be allowed to eat later, only after having washed up.

 

There is a few letters waiting for them down the hall, at the foot of door; Harry recognises the symbol for the water company on one as he scoops them up and flips through, and then he freezes.  
It takes Harry a moment to compute what he hold in his hands, so utterly stunned that he is, because no one has ever sent Harry or Henry a letter.  
In fact there is no one in the world who _would_ send Harry and Henry a letter; they have no friends or relatives other than the Dursley's. And yet now he holds one addressed so plainly that there could be no mistake;

 **Mr H. & H. Potter**  
**The Cupboard under the Stairs**  
**4 Privet Drive**  
**Little Whinging**  
**Surrey**

"Anything interesting?" Henry asks, wholly sarcastic and already expecting the negative response. Harry doesn't answer, and when Henry glances over, concerned, he observes his twin is staring in confusion at one of the letters in his hands. 

"It's for us." Harry whispers, managing to drag his eyes away from the letter long enough to glance Henry, the shock in his brilliant green eyes is mirrored in his brothers own pair. 

"Hurry up!" Vernon's shout startled the twins out of their daze. Henry, seeing that Harry is just going to go waltzing back into the kitchen with their letter on full display, quickly snatches it up and stuffs it into one of the pockets of his oversized pants.

"Not here." He mouths at Harry's slightly hurt expression. Harry pouts but doesn't argue; he realises that if their relatives see this letter, it's unlikely they get to read it before it's taken from them.

Vernon snatches the letters out of Harry's hands when they re-enter the kitchen and roughly tears into them, already grumbling about the water bill. Henry hastily begins to clear up the used cutlery on the table as Harry starts moving the frying pan to the sink. 

It's too hot.

"Ouch!" Harry cries dropping the pan with a loud 'clang'.  
Tears well in his eyes as he clutches his burning finger to his chest. The burn isn't large - barely the size of half a penny - but it's already vibrant red and throbbing.

"What have you done now, boy?" Petunia snaps, looming over Harry and roughy grabbing his hand, yanking it towards her for a better view. She twists his wrist at a painful angle as she tuts over the burn.  
"That'll teach you, now won't it?" The question is obviously rhetorical.

At this point, Henry - who had become frozen by Harry's hurt exclamation - catches site of this twins finger and promptly bursts into tears.  
Not the quiet sort of tears either; the ones that come late at night when they know no one is coming to comfort them, no matter how loud they cry. No, Henry's tears where the wailing, frame-wracking sort that only ever appeared when his twin was injured, and would usually leave him tired and irritable until he napped.

Harry forgets everything but his twin is this moment as he jerks his wrist out of his aunts hold and rushes to comfort his wailing brother. 

Dudley covers his ears with his hands and hunches in his seat, glaring at Henry fiercely.  
"Dad, make him stop!" He whines over the sound of Henry's sobs.

"Petunia, get them out of here!" Vernon thunders.

Petunia grabs Harry - and by extension Henry who is wrapped in his arms - by the collar of his shirt and roughly dragged the twins into the hall. 

She shoos them into the broom-cupboard under the stairs, slamming the door. Harry can just hear the sound of the lock turning into place over Henry's crying.

Harry settles on their mattress, pulling Henry into his lap as he makes quiet shushing noises. 

"I'm ok, Henry. Look-" Harry wiggles his burnt finger in his twins face. His other hand pats at Henry's hair.

Henry's tears begin to subside. He burrows deeper into his twins hold and pouts at the finger in front of him, still occasionally hiccuping a sob.

"It's red." Henry accuses, frowning up at his twin with a miserable gaze.

Henry had always been sensitive to his twins emotion, and especially his pain. Even if it was only a skinned knee from tripping up the stairs, Henry would come running from the other side of the house, instantly knowing that Harry was hurting. 

Harry shrugs, "Yeah, but it doesn't hurt though. It just shocked me at first."

It's hurst a little bit, but as long as he keeps the digit still the pain is tolerable. 

Henry looks at his twin sceptically, and Harry fumbles for a distraction. He recalls the special letter, addressed only to them, hidden in Henry's pocket.

The letter is a bit awkward to reach because Henry is favouring the hip in which the letter rests, so Harry has to shuffle them both until he can fit his uninjured hand into his twins pocket. He pulls the letter out and holds it in front of their entwined body's.

The letter is made of thick material, with a purple wax seal holding it shut. The seal had been stamped with a letter 'H' in the middle of what looks to be a medieval-shaped shield. It has more weight than any other letter that they have held.

The both stare, reading and re-reading the inky words upon its surface.  
Their first ever letter. 

"Do you want to open it?" Harry offers, contemplating how hard it would be to break the letters seal without aggravating his burn.

Henry sniffles, "...kay."  
He grasps the letter, shakily turning it over and pulling at the envelopes flap until it tears just above the wax seal. He slowly pulls open the flap, and tips out its contents onto their bed spread.

Three pieces of folded paper fall out; one considerably thicker than the others. Henry picks up the the one on top of the pile, and unfolds it slowly.  
The first thing Harry sees is his own name hand-written in dark ink along the top. 

_**Dear Mr. Harry and Henry Potter,**_

****

****

_**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**_

_**Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment, along with a map depicting the location of the gateway to Diagon Alley.**_

_**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.**_

_**Yours sincerely,**_

**_Minerva McGonagall_  
_Deputy Headmistress_**

Harry blinks. Henry's hands shake.  
A million and one questions seem to burst into Harry's mind, but when he tried to voice them none would form. He ends up stuttering ineloquently instead.

"That's- but-"

"Remember that time when..." Henry trails off. 

The twins thoughts are so attuned that Henry doesn't even need to finish his sentence. Harry's mind is instantly filled with all the strange things that have ever occurred with them around. Too many small occurrences to count, and several big ones too; hell, just yesterday Harry's glasses traveled from the other side of lounge and into his hands quicker than he could blink.  
And suddenly, a little bit of the twins lives makes more sense. They always knew they were special, but it's nice to have a word, other than _freak_ , to describe themselves.

"You think it could be- we could be-" Harry stutters. He can't seem to say the word out loud. 

_Magic._

"Yeah.." Henry says softy, looking at the letter in his hands.

Both are silent for many moments; shocked and lost in thought.

"Harry?" Henry asks suddenly, "What do they mean by _send an owl?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is actually a reason why Henry seems to feel Harry's pain exponentially, and I'll explain it eventually.
> 
> It is deliberate that the Dursley's refer to Harry and Henry as boy, rather than boys. This is because they see them as two parts of the same nuisance, rather than individuals deserving of respect.
> 
> It is also deliberate that Dudley's birthday was delayed. I'll explain in the next chap.
> 
> Also next chapter should be Diagon Alley, woop woop.


End file.
